


Sign Here To Unionize

by D20Owlbear



Series: Zine Fics [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is one-hundred per-cent a terrible office gremlin, Gen, Lucifer covers for your office sins, Rated G for hitting the Ground like Really Fast, Satan just wants dental and vision benefits damnit, Starmaker Crowley (Good Omens), The Firm(ament) isn't a great place to work but it's also the Only Place to work, You know that guy who eats all the day-old donuts, a lower-case archangel, and doesn't bother to take ALL of the last bit of coffee, and instead just like leaves enough to be frustrating, but he's also your boss?, but is the first one in the office so no one can throw them out first, in the office, that's Crowley, they're just bros, which is really just like a foreman on a construction crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Lucifer just wants to Unionize. Crowley hears him out.Somehow it only goes downhill from there.
Relationships: Crowley & Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Series: Zine Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904656
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Sign Here To Unionize

**Author's Note:**

> I had the lovely pleasure of being a part of the ["Oh Yuck! There's Demons In My Zine"](https://twitter.com/oh_yuck) and wrote two pieces, this was the one that wasn't able to squeeze in due to page constraints, so I get to post it as I like!
> 
> I fully recommend that zine once it's up, which should be soonish I think! Very good artist and _very_ good writers all about our ~~lovely demons!~~

“Really?” A sigh sounded from the door to the Heavenly breakroom and Crowley whipped around, shoulders curled forward and day-old manna hanging from his teeth. Lucifer stood in the doorway, wrapped in delicate white linen of his station, and wearing a longsuffering look on his face.

“Rehvy wha?” Crowley mumbled through the bread in his mouth and darted his eyes away for only a moment to top off his travel mug with breakroom coffee. No matter that angels didn’t _need_ to eat or drink, and no matter that only lowercase archangels, which were really mostly like foremen, and angels tended to take part of the firmament-turned-manna bread, Crowley _liked_ it. And so did quite a few of the others. They’d also been taken with _coffee_ as well and had set up their own little break room as they pleased.

“Crowley,” Lucifer sighed again, louder, and eyed the pot Crowley had _almost-but-not-quite_ emptied into his cup being put back on the drip. “You _do_ realize that if anyone caught you doing that they’d riot, yes?”

“Guff ‘hing ‘hey havin’–” Crowley pulled the man from his lips and continued speaking while chewing thoughtfully, “Caught me yet, huh?”

Lucifer strode past the archangel of the star-crew, grabbed the nearly-empty pot, and rinsed it out in the sink, doing all the things Crowley _should_ have done to make fresh coffee for the break room.

“ _Because_ star-maker, I’ve been fixing it.” Lucifer replied grumpily, shooting Crowley a mild glare that was easy enough to shrug off as Crowley hopped up onto the counter with crossed legs and munched on his old manna. Right next to the box of fresh manna straight from Anniel’s Firmament. _Heaven runs on Anniel’s, or something like it,_ Crowley mused to himself tiredly.

“Why?” Crowley asked, because his curse was curiosity through and through, no matter how tired he was, no matter how overworked, _why_ had always been part of his vocabulary, ever since he’d been created really.

“You’re a good arch-angel,” Lucifer shrugged, “Even if you’re a bit deplorable at everything else. And it seemed like a waste to let the other angels resent someone under my dominion for something ultimately trivial like leaving _two sips in the coffee pot,_ really Crowley! It’s not even a one-time thing, you do it all the time! Why?!” Lucifer’s even tone quickly turned into a rant, benign as it was, and Crowley shoved the last of the leftover manna into his mouth to keep from grinning.

“Oh I dunno,” Crowley lied, unsure if he’d just invented that or if it could be considered a joke instead, “Seemed the thing to do...” He grabbed one of manna from the box and ripped it in half, sniffed both, and then returned one half back to the box.

“The– the thing to do?! _Crowley_!” Lucifer switched the pot of coffee back on and ran a hand down his face, “Crowley, you can’t just keep doing this. I _know_ you’re overworked and understaffed, but these little rebellions that don’t actually do anything but agitate others won’t work.”

Crowley sat and sipped at his coffee, watching Lucifer. Angels didn’t get fired, they didn’t get demoted, they’d been made by the Almighty to fit into Her _plan_ like cogs in a machine and they were each and every one of them “made perfectly and wonderfully,” or whatever. So there _was_ no punishment in Heaven for not being a perfect little cog because, technically _,_ there was no such thing. Crowley of course, and Lucifer apparently, knew better.

“I have a plan.” Lucifer said after a few minutes of staring, not that time mattered much except as a vague concept to induce the anxiety of “gotta get it done _now_ ”.

“What kind of plan?” Crowley loved plans, even if he was wary of them. Step by step, piece by piece, everything laid out and blue-printed and labeled properly, everything in its place and everything had a place and it all fit together perfectly. He’d been created to be that way, to plan (and scheme) so that every star was made and hung to perfect and exacting specifications.

“We’re gonna protest,” Lucifer replied smoothly, the sound of coffee percolating in the background made the break room smell of it. Heavenly, really, and surprisingly intimate. Lucifer pulled a clipboard from the ether and proffered it to Crowley, “Here, take a look. I’ve been collecting sigils from those who back the project and we’ll present it up the chain to Her directly. I’ve got the weight to throw behind it for that at least.”

The arch-angel hesitated for a moment, indecisiveness he oughtn’t even have in the first place plaguing him. “I don’t know. That sounds… above my paygrade.”

Lucifer wiggled the clipboard enticingly and simply said, “Here’s the why.” Crowley grabbed it without thinking about it any further, he didn’t need to. _Whys_ always deserved answers.

Crowley whistled, somewhat impressed against his will, as he flicked through the first few pages with its straightforward demands of unionizing and fair wages and mandated breaks or allowances for personal time away from work. He’d even spotted something about Vision and Dental, whatever that meant. Crowley whistled again, much longer and lower, when he looked at the pages of signatures that didn’t seem to end, the list went on and on and there were some highly respectable angels on here!

“Heavens, Lucifer, this has got to be near–”

“One-third of the Host. As of your signature, if you give it.” Lucifer said lightly. “There’ll be more after, I think, but it’ll require some convincing for some others. This third though, they’re the innovators and the ones who ask questions. Just like you, just like me. And, well, is there _really_ all that much difference between an Archangel and an arch-angel?”

Crowley hemmed and hawed for a couple of seconds, unable to keep his fingers from tracing a few sigils he knew nearly as well as he knew his own of those who signed off on his plans for implementation. Hope and joy sparked in his chest, it refreshed him to know he wasn’t the only one who felt like he did. That he wasn’t the only one who thought it could be _better_.

So, without another thought, Crowley flipped to the very last page to the last spot available on it and signed his Name. Some time later, Crowley was called Upstairs to report to a previously unscheduled meeting, figuring they were about certain new stars Crowley hadn’t _technically_ had the approval to place yet, he started rehearsing his excuses and bundling up his blueprints.

Only when he ran into Lucifer, and a gaggle of other angels he recognized faintly, did he realize that’s not what it was about. Aniel, Lucifer, Raziel, Jopheil… those were all people who’d signed the protest form. Huh, maybe this was it, they’d get to talk to Her!

Michael exited the meeting room to various whispers of curious angels, carrying a slip of pink paper, which she handed to Lucifer, and a spear, which she did not hand to Lucifer. The spear was, of course, to make sure they didn’t need to call “security.”

And, just like that, they were unceremoniously fired. All their documents signed and stamped by the Powers That Be. They were updated with redactions of their old Names, to be replaced on whatever HR forms they came up with later on with whatever new monikers they came up with. Not all of them, of course, were very good at naming things. Take Crawly, for example.


End file.
